


Symbiosis

by Aegypius



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegypius/pseuds/Aegypius
Summary: Celar considers her role on a newly-free Athoek Station.





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

> Written for R2SID 2018. Thank you to gardenvarietyunique for the prompt.

"...concerns the equipment may block access to the lifts on level 6. Now, if Administration would consider making alterations the construction schedule..." The assistant chief of the upper concourse maintenance staff, now sitting before Celar's desk, is one of over a dozen citizens to have passed through her office today, bearing complaints ranging from the urgent to the largely trivial. 

This one is closer to the latter than the former, and a month ago would have been reported directly to Station. Now, it's brought to Celar. 

It's an understandable reaction, she supposes- people are unsettled, in need of a familiar face to reassure them that their concerns are being heard, that their needs are still being considered. That life will go on as normal under Athoek's new regime.

Station, and their relationship to it, is at the core of much of the public's anxiety. The events of the past weeks have deeply shaken many of the most foundational beliefs on which the people of Athoek's lives are built. And one of those beliefs, perhaps the most important, here upwell, is in the absolute reliability of Station. It had come to their rescue, during Anaander Mianaai's violent attempt to reassert control over the system, and it had done so of it's own will. And as grateful as people are, no one can forget that their survival depends upon, not a well regulated and predictable machine, as they has once thought, but a self-declared alien intelligence with it's own, uncertain agenda.

Celar thinks, hopes, that she understands it's agenda better than most. If recent event's have convinced her of one thing, it is of Station's loyalty to it's Citizens. Of it's commitment making things better. 

She smiles, and assures the citizen that her request has been noted, and the construction schedule will be reviewed. The citizen leaves her office, and she calls in the next.

 

On Celar's desk is a small model of Athoek Station. It hangs suspended between the poles of its magnetic stand, oblong, in silver metal, the clear dome of the gardens revealing a tiny, painted landscape below. It was left by her predecessor, and it reminds her of the station as she had first seen it- an encapsulated world, self-contained, pristine.

Celar has been working in station administration, in some form or another, since she took the aptitudes. She thrives on the complexity of it. A station is like an organism, dependent upon a immense network of interconnected systems, all of which must be kept in careful balance.

Athoek had been balanced, just barely, when Celar arrived. Or so it had appeared. Between tourism and the tea industry, the station as a whole was prosperous, and while the Undergarden situation was unfortunate, it wasn't new, and to interfere there would risk aggravating existing tension between the Ychana and the Xhai. So she had left it be, and focused instead on maintaining things as she had found them; for years, all had seemed well.

As Administrator, she had taken it for granted that the station AI was her ally. It's purpose, after all, was to care for its residents. Until a few weeks ago, she had never stopped to think about what that really _meant_. About whether its opinion on how to fulfill that purpose might differ from her own, or to what lengths it might go to to do so, when finally given the opportunity.

 

Ships have favorites, Lieutenant Seivarden mentions, off hand, over tea one day. "Most people never realize, because they aren't obvious about it. I think that's just how ships are, though; they don't say things directly, or they can't. It's how Breq and Mercy of Kalr are, at least."

"But they do little things," she continues, "like opening doors without you having to ask, or making sure your tea is always just the way you like it. Or if they don't like you, nothing is ever quite right. You have to ask for every little thing- that the lights turn on and off, or that your room stays the temperature you want it. And you don't realize until you go somewhere else, and things are different, and even then you don't know _why_." Seivarden speaks as though from personal experience, and given what Celar knows about her, her ship, and the Fleet Captain, she guesses that Seivarden has spent time at both ends of the scale.

Celar thinks back to her conversation with the Fleet Captain, after Translator Dlique's death. Of how she had described Station's behavior. " _...does and says exactly what you ask of it, and very little more._ " She had never realized, before that, that there was anything else a station could do. Now, she wonders how much of it's silence was due to its general misery over the state of the Undergarden, and how much was resentment towards her, specifically. For not seeing the obvious. For doing nothing. There are citizens, she knows, that speak of Station like an old friend. Would one of them, in her position, have recognized immediately that something was wrong?

 

That night, Celar asks Station, "You're very fond of Citizen Uran, aren't you?"

There's a pause, then, "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Is that why you want her on the Citizens' Council?"

"In part. I think she would be well suited for it- she is thoughtful for her age, and well liked. And new as she is to it, I think she cares a great deal about the Undergarden." A moment later, it adds, "also, the council will need someone who can balance out Lieutenant Tisarwat."

Celar laughs, "That might be too much to ask of any one citizen. But I agree, she has a lot of potential." Shifting the topic slightly, she says, "There must be other citizens you like, yes? And those you don't?" She knows, of course, that Station is aware of her earlier conversation with Lieutenant Seivarden.

"I care for all my residents," Station replies, "but yes, there are some I am more fond of than others. The polite ones, mostly. Is there a reason you ask?"

Celar hesitates a moment before replying. "I've made a lot of job appointments recently," to various repair crews, both before and after the Anaander debacle, and to replace a number of government and administrative staff who had walked out following news of Athoek's secession from the Radch, "and will be making many more, I'm sure. Some of them will have a great deal of influence over the rebuilding of the garden and Undergarden. I haven't thought to ask for your opinion of any of them, and I should have."

"If you are asking my opinion of their qualifications," says Station, "I have no complaints. If you're asking my opinion of their character... there are some citizens I'd prefer to see in positions of less power, though not enough to upset the existing dynamic at such a delicate time. And not all of them are recent appointments, or ones that you made. I will tell you if anything changes, though."

"And future appointments?"

"I can provide a list of recommendations, if you like. Though to get started, I suggest you have a look at Citizen Queter's application for engineering. I think you'll find her resume particularly interesting."

 

The meeting is running long again. It's a familiar argument- _Sphene_ is advocating, loudly and at length, for the reinstitution of ancillary service as a punishment for serious crimes. It reminds the council that without ancillaries, it would not even be alive to speak to them. Mercy of Kalr counters by pointing out, not for the first time, or the second, that _Sphene_ 's situation was unique, and that while of course it misses having it's own bodies, human soldiers have proven to be a satisfactory alternative, and surely this discussion can wait until _after_ they have finished establishing the basic structure of the legal system.

 _Sphene_ responds by suggesting that Mercy of Kalr, before being so quick to praise it's human crew, should perhaps more closely examine the cleanliness of it's decade room floor, and Celar despairs of ever resolving the issue.

"Station," says _Sphene_ abruptly, "surely you can appreciate disadvantages of relying on human maintenance alone. How long did you go without basic repairs because of corrupt and incompetent officials? Imagine how much destruction could have been avoided if only you had been able to do the work yourself. How many could have _benefited_." It leans on that last word. "I, for one, would much prefer not to have to sleep in a hallway.

Celar's initial indignation fades into shame. _Sphene_ is looking straight at her now. It's right, she knows. For a long moment the room is silent, then Station's words scroll slowly into Celar's vision.

"I would remind you, Cousin, that I was never designed to have ancillaries, and thus have no way of knowing whether they would make me happier. But even if they would, the number needed to maintain myself is far more than I would ever want. And while I may be- am- unhappy with how things were managed in the past, I would much rather work with my residents to make improvements than replace them with parts of myself.

"As it is, the only one of us who stands to gain any immediate benefit from the creation of new ancillaries is Cousin Kalr; it seems only fair that its opinion should be given the most weight here."

Nods around the table; _Sphene_ leans back in its chair, but says nothing. 

The Fleet Captain says, "On to other business, then?"

 

 

"Citizen, may I speak with you a moment?" Celar says to Kalr 8, Mercy of Kalr's representative for the day, as the council begins to file out of the room. Kalr 8 pauses, sends a message with a twitch of her fingers. Across the room, the Fleet Captain gives her a nod.

"What might I do for you, Station Administrator?" she says, then adds, "Did you want to talk to me, or to Ship?

Celar gestures toward the table, waits for Kalr 8 to sit before doing so herself. "You. About that very subject, in fact."

Kalr 8's flat expression breaks momentarily into confusion, and Celar continues, "I thought you might be able to give me some advice. I'm... still very new to all of this. To speaking for Station, to- to working with Station, instead of expecting it to work for me."

"I've seen how you and your crew are with Mercy of Kalr," Celar says. "It obviously cares very much for you, and you for it. Has it always been like that?"

Kalr 8 thinks for a long time before answering. Consulting with her ship, perhaps. Finally, she says, "Our previous captain, before the Fleet Captain, was very harsh with us. She was embarrassed to be the captain of a Mercy, especially one with a human crew. That's why we started talking for Ship- she liked to keep the illusion that we were ancillaries." Celar nods; she remembers Captain Vel, and not fondly.

"So we understood, sort of, what Ship must feel like, because Captain Vel treated us like Ship. And Ship took care of us, kept us safe, so it only seemed natural that we should do the same for it." She stops again, looks thoughtful, "I think that's how it's supposed to be, with a ship and its crew. People need ships, and stations, obviously, and they need us, but not just to maintain them, or because we built them to work for us. They're made to care for people, and they are people, and people are made to care for each other."

"Even _Sphene_?" Celar asks. She means it half jokingly, but Kalr 8 frowns.

" _Sphene_ isn't so bad. I think it's just... honestly, Administrator, I think it's jealous, of the other ships, and Station. It's been alone for so long, and then it sees the other ships with their crews, and Station with you, and... it doesn't want to admit how much it needs that too."

Later, after Kalr 8 has left, Station says, in Celar's ear, "She's right, about all of it." Then, "Maybe we ought to get _Sphene_ a cat."

Celar laughs.

 

 

"Administrator," Station says over the office console, startling Celar out of her daze. She's been pouring over maintenance reports for several hours now, and the words are starting to blur in her vision.

"Yes, Station."

"Perhaps the rest of these reports could wait until tomorrow. It's quite late, and you haven't had supper yet."

Celar blinks, momentarily confused, and closes her current report. She checks the time- later than she had thought. This is new conversational territory, with Station, and she hesitates for a moment before responding, "You're right, I lost track of the time. Thank you, Station."

She gets up to leave, to find the door already open, the corridor beyond quiet and dim. As the lights blink off behind her, she turns back for a moment, and sees the station, in perfect miniature, spinning brightly in the darkness.


End file.
